


falling

by fangirlingacrosstheuniverse



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bi Yaz, F/F, Masturbation, one-sided
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 04:17:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16846957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlingacrosstheuniverse/pseuds/fangirlingacrosstheuniverse
Summary: It's been a long, tiring day. Yaz needs some time to unwind and contemplate the things she can't have.





	falling

The TARDIS creaks.

Yaz freezes where she is, hand resting on her thigh. She has to be so, so quiet.  
Everyone else's bedrooms are in the same hallway.  
The absolute last thing she wants is to wake anyone.  
Cautiously, her hand resumes it's earlier action, fingers lightly stroking her upper thigh.  
Part of her mind yells for her to stop, that it's inappropriate.  
She tunes it out.  
She needs this, needs it to calm her mind, her emotions.

It's been a stressful day. They'd almost died. 

Again.

Within a minute of landing on the planet Aberstaf, the group had been separated and jailed. They'd had to fight their way back to each other through the jungle plants. And then, when they were together again, they realised that the TARDIS was gone. Unbeknownst to them, it had sunk into quicksand and been carried away by the natives.  
By the time they'd escaped the army of green crab-like aliens native to the planet and returned to the TARDIS, they were exhausted. The adrenaline rush had long since worn off, and they sat around listlessly in the kitchen for a while before Graham suggested going to bed.

Even the Doctor had been scared, though she tried to hide it.  
Yaz wanted to ruffle her hair, hold her, tell her everything would be fine.  
Then the moment had passed, they were reunited, back in the TARDIS, and the Doctor was back to her usual enthusiastic self, bouncing around the TARDIS. She pulled levers and babbled about planets and species and historical figures. As if nothing had happened.  
The Doctor's always like that, attention flitting like a butterfly from one thing to another.

Yaz wants that attention focused on her.

Yaz has known about her attraction to women since she was fifteen; though in hindsight it was so obvious she wondered how she'd missed it earlier. She remembers having a crush on the main character of the Never-ending story as a kid, despite not knowing the gender of the main character.

She's had her share of crushes before, on men and women, but there's something...different about the Doctor.  
Yaz know's she's an alien, but she's met other aliens now and the Doctor remains unique. The older woman (and Yaz isn't quite sure how much older) is so energetic, running around, bouncing ideas off everyone and everything, focusing on different things, attention like a spotlight.  
Sometimes that spotlight lingers on Yaz, who can't help but feel...pinned. Like the Doctor's eyes pierce through her, laying her bare.  
The Doctor's eyes sear into her soul, stripping back the layers of sarcasm and independence, scraping down to the core of who she is.

She can't help but blush under the attention. She wants to be able to hold the Doctor, to hold hands, touch her affectionately, kiss her cheek and the top of her head absentmindedly. She wants to sit opposite her in a restaurant, make her laugh, see the affection in her eyes. Nothing that can't be explained away by platonic affection.  
But...

 

And she can admit it to herself, here, now; that's not all she wants.

And while she loves the cheerful, distractable version of the Doctor... it's  
nothing compared to the steely tone she sometimes hears in the Doctor's voice. 

The strict, serious expression that sometimes settles onto her face, when someone insults her, or another of the TARDIS team. Or when someone challenges her, especially in a life threatening situation. It's the face of the oncoming storm, the one she directs at their enemies. It's angry and challenging and proud, and reflects centuries of unimaginable grief and pain. Yaz saw it cow Krasko, and King James 1, and an army of sentient sand.

For some reason, Yaz wants that face directed at her, too.  
She's never seen herself as someone who... wants to be bossed around, outside a couple of teenage fantasies.  
And while initially her little crush (she can admit it to herself at least, in her room, in the dark, as her fingers travel down her body) on the Doctor was based on the older woman's usual optimistic, cheerful demeanour...  
the thought of the Doctor holding her down, piercing gaze pressing her against the bed, makes her groan and buck up into her fingers.  
She muffles the noise by turning her head, pressing her face in the pillow. The fingers of her left hand start up a rhythm, flicking back and forth over her clit, while the fingers of her right hand flit around her body- teasing a nipple, lightly cupping her own breast, tracing patterns down her skin. 

 

She imagines the Doctor touching her like this, the cool of her hands soothing against the heat of her skin. She knows the Doctor's hands are calloused from her mechanical work, pictures those roughened palms scraping against her skin.  
Yaz also knows that the Doctor is stronger than she looks. As she caresses her own body she pictures the Doctor doing the same. As she pushes a finger inside herself, she pictures the Doctor taking her handcuffs and bending her over the TARDIS console. 

 

She swallows a moan.  
She has to be quiet.

 

She feels bad about doing this; she's never been super comfortable fantasising about people she knows. But recently, no matter what else she does, who else she tries to think about, her thoughts always come back to the Doctor. She tries to think of anything else-her high school crush, a celebrity, even Ryan- but her mind is still full of blonde hair, suspenders, and the Doctor's lithe frame.  
Damnit.

Despite her apparent openness, the Doctor seems so distant, sometimes. As if she's still holding part of herself back from them. Like an authority figure- a teacher, or a commanding officer.  
Untouchable. 

Yaz wants to tear down her walls, make her flustered, see her come to pieces under her.  
She wants to hold the Doctor down and watch her squirm, wants her to snap and push Yaz against the wall of the TARDIS, hold her down and ravish her. She wants anything and everything she can get. 

She pictures the Doctor lying naked and post-coital, smiling at her. 

She comes with two fingers inside herself, finger of her other hand flicking her clit. Her body clenches and releases with a shudder, and her mind falls back down to earth with a thud. She lies in the dark, unable to feel shame in her orgasm-induced calm.  
Really though, the sexual fantasies aren't her biggest problem. Yaz wants to take the Doctor out to dinner, go on long romantic walks, and kiss her under the moonlight of some alien world.  
It's not just lust. She can admit it now, post-orgasm, in the space just before sleep.  
She's falling in love.  
Falling hard.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I know I should be working on my WIP's. I swear I am, and I'll update them soon, but this just really needed to be written. First time writing smut, so (constructive) criticism welcome. Thanks for reading!


End file.
